*Zykovian, it's late morning in the Darkstone mines, and Gardanax has called you to his presence. The amethyst is not as imposing as your own sire, but he still is not to be trifled with. Reclining on a bed of coins made expressly for his lounging, regarding the latest batch of cut jewels, he seems to be a very content dragon. However, you know better. The posture of repose is little more than a facade. He is quite capable of striking at any moment... just as your sire.*
"Zykovian, go to the slave pens today. Examine them closely, and look for signs of weapon use, magic use, or any... insolence. We break through to a lower level soon, and I'd like to forestall any surprises. Question those few that are there now, and then question the others later when they return. Use any methods you like to get the truth from them, but leave them capable. Go," he says, flicking his jewel-studded claws at the half-dragon.
*The slave pens are surrounded by a smooth rock wall, put in place by sorcerery when the mine was opened. The slave huts are also stone, shaped up from the rock floor to provide study housing for privacy... and to lock in the slaves at night.*
*The signs you're looking for are ones you've been trained to seek out. The impact signs on the walls that indicate practice in throwing things. Repeated cuts on side walls, or crude practice dummies (broken down into pieces) covered with scars from improvised weapons. Stone daggers hidden in boots, eating knives honed to killing sharpness, stone strapped to firewood to make crude maces and clubs, all of these are the signs of weapons you're looking for. Scorch marks where none should be indicate signs of sorcerery in the slaves that has to be rooted out before it taints the entire pool, and unusual areas of color also warn of magic use.*
*You walk past the dragonkin guards at the gates, who give you a respectful nod. The slave pens are impeccably clean, as to not offend draconic noses. Even now the elderly gnome women and young children are scrubbing the walls and floors, sweeping up debris, and arranging their things. Another similar group, under guard, is cleaning the quarters of the overseers.*
*The remaining slaves bow, kneeling on the ground, their noses touching rock, as you pass. You examine the walls, search through belongings, and carefully watch and listen the slaves as they converse quietly. As you walk through, you notice nothing untoward, until a faint, rythmic thudding and a shink! reach you ears. Cautiously you edge around the side of a slave hut, and are able to observe without being seen.*
*A spry elder gnome woman, probably only recently demoted to cleaning, is carefully showing one of the older children how to hold a small eating knife. It's obvious from the way he's being show to hold it that it is meant for killing... or defense, rather than for eating. As you watch, the boy comes at the old woman again, and she deflects it on her forearm. You can see she has some thin, old plates of worn armor, the kind discarded in the junk heap, that she's pressed into service as a kind of shield. As the boy leaps back from the deflection, he lunges unexpectedly and manages to tap the old woman against the shoulder.*
*The old woman breaks into a smile and gathers the young boy to her in a hug.*
"That was so good Raffie! You're doing so well. The won't be able to hurt you now, and you'll have a way to defend yourself. I'm so proud of you," she says happily, crushing the boy to her in a hug.